"I've the five hundred! Trumps, Major Quint!"

"Oh, do be quiet!" said Zoe angrily. "What will all those gentlemen
think?" And in the silence which ensued and amid the whispered muttering
of the two old women at strife over their game, the sound of rapid
footsteps ascended from the back stairs. It was Nana at last. Before
she had opened the door her breathlessness became audible. She bounced
abruptly in, looking very red in the face. Her skirt, the string of
which must have been broken, was trailing over the stairs, and her
flounces had just been dipped in a puddle of something unpleasant which
had oozed out on the landing of the first floor, where the servant girl
was a regular slut.

"Here you are! It's lucky!" said Mme Lerat, pursing up her lips, for
she was still vexed at Mme Maloir's "five hundred." "You may flatter
yourself at the way you keep folks waiting."

"Madame isn't reasonable; indeed, she isn't!" added Zoe.

Nana was already harassed, and these reproaches exasperated her. Was
that the way people received her after the worry she had gone through?

"Will you blooming well leave me alone, eh?" she cried.

"Hush, ma'am, there are people in there," said the maid.

Then in lower tones the young Woman stuttered breathlessly:

"D'you suppose I've been having a good time? Why, there was no end to
it. I should have liked to see you there! I was boiling with rage!